Dinah's Ribbon
by Scratch O'Brien
Summary: Alice was not a little girl. Alice was manipulative, Alice was smart, and Alice wanted to go home -- but when you become part of a resistance for the liberation of a country, you sort of get attached to the place and the people you are fighting for.
1. I: A Meeting With Mr Harper

_I do not own any of the characters created by Lewis Carroll. But, I own the plot, and I own what I did to the characters to make them mine. Please respect that._

_This story is not in any way based on historical events. No people, living or dead, (except Lewis Carroll) or events that happened are meant to be historically accurate. Actually, my portrayal of Lewis Carroll is not that accurate either. As for Alice's hairstyle, look at the original illustrations: it's how she wears her hair in_ Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_. She wears it in a headband only in_ Through the Looking Glass.

---

"I can't say I appreciate what Mr. Carroll did with my story."

"Miss Greenwood, he took your story and tuned it into a child's tale. And they love it; Wonderland is a place for every child."

The aging Miss Greenwood sat up even straighter in her chair and glared at the man, her eyes still as clear and blue as they had ever been. "Wonderland," the woman began, "has never been, _nor never will be_, a place for children." She used the same stern voice she had used as a schoolteacher, but with more severity, conviction and _fear _than she had ever chided a student with.

The journalist was taken aback. "I'm sorry, Miss Greenwood."

"As very well you should be."

---

_I detest parties,_ I thought to myself_. They are _so_ very droll. _I had managed to sneak away from almost every one my parents hosted, and the one that was in celebration of my fifteenth birthday was no exception. I just told Mother I was going for a walk to get used to the longer skirt that I was now required to wear as a young lady of fifteen. The dress was wonderful, which made the longer length of it tolerable: a light blue princess-line silk.

The dress was my first silk and Mother had let me wear it without an apron to keep off grime. I felt very grown-up.

Despite the lovely dress and the lovely weather, I couldn't help but think what turning fifteen meant: I had one more year before turning sixteen.

Now, you may think that obvious, and it is. But then think about what turning sixteen meant: I would have my debutant party that year. And that means that I would soon be betrothed, then married and stuck in a world of housewifely duties, which in my particular social class meant running the household and giving your husband the credit for it all.

_One shouldn't be so selfish, Alice. If you were poor, you would actually be doing the housework,_ Imaginary Alice told me.

_I can't help that I'm not poor!_ I replied.

_Silly girl,_ Imaginary Alice chided._ I didn't mean for you to feel guilty about not being poor; I just meant you should be thankful that you aren't._

I didn't honor that statement with an answer. I just stuck my nose in the air and walked away in a huff, leaving Imaginary Alice wherever she lives when I am done talking to her.

I walked daintily and ladylike until I was out of my mother's line of sight. Then, in an atrocious disregard to propriety, I hitched up my skirts and ran as fast as my feet could carry me across the grassy lands of our estate, until I came upon my favorite place in the world: the daisy field.

Dinah, my devoted kitten, had followed me. I sat in the daisy field next to her and took off the gargantuan pink bow my mother had tied around her neck. After smoothing out the creases and dusting off traces of orange cat hair, I used it to tie my hair into a half-up style. The pink matched the color of the embroidered flowers on my dress, so if Mother caught me she wouldn't mind.

"Was it rude of me to take that bow from you, Dinah? No, of course not; Mother knows you hate ribbons; I even caught you pawing at it earlier trying to take it off. I rescued you!"

After justyfing my actions, I sat there, making a daisy chain of colossal proportions and dreaming about a nonsense world of my own.

---

"He at least got that part right,"

"Yes, he did indeed, from there up until the part where I met the Mad Hatter and the March Hare," the elderly lady clad in mossy green velvet replied paitently.

"How about we just skip to where you met them, then?"

"And they say it's children who have no patience. Very well, Mr. Harper. We will skip to where I met the Mad Hatter and the March Hare."

---

_Like it so far? I love reviews... they make me write faster! I even let you review if you don't have an account! So, review, please._


	2. II: If I Only Had My Comfits

_I don't own_ Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ A very little bit of dialouge is taken out of or based heavily on the book, especially at the part where Alice is talking to the Chesire Cat. The way the Mad Hatter and the March Hare laugh is directly from a scene I acted in (as Alice!) and the way our director told the Mad Hatter and the March Hare to laugh, and the way the March Hare says wine is exactly how our March Hare siad wine. Speaking of which, I spelled wine pheonetically or else it would be hard for you to read (just wait 'til you read that part). I'm sorry this chapter is so short; I have outlined chapter three already though, so hopefully it will be up by next weekend._

---

This was the biggest adventure I had ever had, and the only one I had ever wished was imaginary. It had taken three days (at least, three Wonderland days) after my encounter with the Cook, the Duchess and the Duchess's pig-baby to get the pepper completely out of my eyes and nose. And the Chesire Cat had been following me ever since I had first laid eyes on him in the Duchess's kitchen, confusing me with his riddles. His grotesque grin haunted my daytime hallucinations, brought on by walking for days on end with little sleep and no food. I reached into one of my apron pockets to see if I had even a half a biscuit in it, but instead drew out my little silver thimble. _If I only had my comfits..._ I thought, as I reached in my pocket again and drew out my empty comfit tin, remembering how I had to give them away as prizes after the Caucus-race. I already knew there was nothing in there as I had already checked several times a day, but there was always hope.

Today, like all other days, I had been walking. How long, I don't know; I had been in a forest a lot of the time, a very dark forest with odd creatures and noises that were even more strange. My face was scratched and my clothes, stiff with my own dried salt tears, were torn and dirty. I had not seen a mirror in very long, but there was no doubt my hair was in a state similar to my clothing. I still smelled a little like the smoke from the Caterpillar's hookah.

Needless to say, I was _not_ presentable for a tea party.

But the Chesire Cat, as always, had other ideas.

---

I ran into him as he perched up in an oak tree, grinning and mumbling something about mome raths. "So there you are!"

My voice had brought him from his reverie. "Oh, hello, Alice. Lovely day, isn't it?"

"If you're talking about the weather, yes it is. But if you speak about the day in general, no, it is indeed_ not_ a 'lovely day'," I replied, crossing my arms angrily.

"So cynical. Tsk, tsk," he clucked. "Ooh, have a rather nasty crick in my neck." He turned his head all the way around, then turned it back again, making disgusting clicking noises all the way. "Ahh, so much better. Oh, excuse me. Where were we?"

"You were just about to tell me how to find my way home," I lied.

"Oh, that's easy; home is where one's heart is. Or is it where you hang your hat..." he looked at me. "I think it must be where one's heart is, since you're not wearing a hat."

I made a frustrated noise and stomped my left foot twice. "Do stop talking nonsense, and give me a straight answer!"

"You can't get a straight answer here. We're all too mad to do _that_!"

"But... I don't want to live among..._ mad _people!"

"Oh, you can't help that. We're all mad here."

"Except me."

"Including you, Alice. I remember watching a little girl scold herself for cheating in a game of croquet she played against herself."

"That was different!"

He perked up. "Speaking of which, did you play croqet with the queen today?"

His sudden topic change had not taken me off my guard; it was something I was used to by now. "No. Your directions are confusing."

"Or maybe you're too mad to understand them."

"Maybe I'm not mad enough! Only a resident of Bedlam could understand you!"

"I will make it simple. In that direction lives a Hatter," he said as he pointed to he right with his left arm, "and in that direction lives the March Hare," he continued, pointing to the left with his right arm. "Visit either one you like, they're both as insane as you and I."

"I told you, I'm not mad!"

"Well, of course you are," he said, dropping his arms. "Why else would you have come here?"

Without answering, I stormed off in the direction of the March Hare's house, not thinking about how had not given me directions home or to the Queen's palace, because I was too busy wondering exactly why I _had_ come here.

---

I stood at the gate of the white picket fence, beating as much dirt as I could off my dress. I took off my apron. _I wonder if anyone would notice if I put it on outside-in... I mean, rightside-out!_ _Maybe I _am_ going mad. Do mad people think backwards?_ I finally decided on putting my apron back on the right way, even though the inside was cleaner. Maybe if I looked pitiful the March Hare would feed me. I took another look at the fence. It looked freshly whitewashed. I sighed, and finger-combed my hair, then put it into a braid to hide the most difficult of the knots and snarls.

Opening the gate, I stepped into even more madness. I saw a table, set for a tea party of fifty, and a well. I hurried over to the well, glad for the chance to wash my face and hands. After drying my face with my hankerchief, I once again turned to the table, walking closer and closer, 'til I could catch snatches of a song that sounded distanly familiar...

"_Twinkle, twinkle, little bat_..."

---

"I really should have known by then to not follow Chesire's instructions--well, suggestions, really."

The young man looked up from his crumpet and paused, obviously not knowing what to say.

Mrs. Greenwood shook her head as if she was trying to shake off some unpleasant thought, then continued with her story.

---

"_No room!_"

"There is_ plenty_ of room!" The argument between myself, the March Hare and the Mad Hatter, a little man with a bulbous red nose, had continued on for quite some time.

"Have some _WHY-ene_," the Hare offered, dragging out "wine" and turning it's original one syllable into two.

"I don't _see_ any _'WHY-ene'_."

"There isn't any!" They both laughed, insane, mad laughter for four seconds. Then they both instantly calmed down and went back to sipping their tea.

"Father, Mr. Hare, _please_ let the poor girl sit down. Time will forget about what time he wants it to be here soon enough, and we may need her help with the dishes." My head whipped around, and I was looking at a young man my age. I assumed he was the Mad Hatter's son; there was a certain family resemblance, and they both had the same dark hair and fair skin--but the young man's nose wasn't nearly as big as his father's, and his clothes and hat, though their colors were still bright and unusual, were a lot more tasteful. He was also a great deal more attractive.

"Please, Miss, be seated," he said as he pulled out a chair for me. Reaching for a plaid teapot, he poured some steaming tea into a teacup with painted violets. "Sugar?" he asked. I nodded and asked for one lump. Stirring it in for me, he handed me the cup. "I'm Theophilus Hatter," he said, taking a seat next to me and began pouring his own tea.

"Alice Greenwood," I replied, wondering if I had finally found a sane being in this nonsensical world.

---

_As always, PLEASE read and review! I'm an attention whore, I know... but if you want me to keep writing, please, feed my big ego!_


	3. III: Horrid Paisley Carpet

Author's Apology:_ I'm sorry it has taken so long to update; I was waiting to see which story would get the most votes to be updated next on my account, but nothing's won yet, so I updated this one (even though it is the one without any votes!)_

Author's Self Promotion:_ So go and vote! Also, read my other stories!_

Disclaimer:_ I only own the plot and Theophilus Hatter._

Author's Note: _I know "The Jabberwocky" is in_ Through the Looking Glass_, but I have artistic license so HAHA! Remember to leave a review! Speaking of the Jabberwocky, "Jabberwock" is another name used for it, so I don't want any reviews saying that I left of the y!_

_Oh, and Memorare: I am working on the third chapter of My Converse Match Your Tunic. You will giggle when you read it, I promise you!_

_My other readers, especially those that favor my Newsies fanfiction: I have outlined Chapter Three of Bye Bye, Birdie, so keep your eyes peeled (that sounds really painful, doesn't it?) for it!_

Note on the Re-Upload:_ Some icky spelling errors._

xxx

"You traversed through the Wonderland Forest on such sparse sleep, and no food? You could have always picked morarre berries -- do you have allergies?" the son of the Hatter asked. Needless to say, Theophilus Hatter thought I was insane. Then again, so did the Chesire Cat, though I was not nearly as considerate about the Chesire Cat's opinion as I was Theophilus's, though I should have been.

"No, I don't have allergies," I replied. "I'm..." Oh, how was I going to explain my situation to him? _I have absolutly no clue what morarre berries are since I'm from the other end of the Earth, and possibly another reality entirely. _"I'm not from here," I said simply, "so I didn't know what was safe to eat."

Theophilus Hatters' eyes grew clear with recognition. "You're the girl who fell down the rabbit hole!" He leaned in closer to me. "The Chesire Cat said you wanted to play croquet with the queen," he whispered. "Are you _mad_!?"

I glared into my cup of tea. "According to the Chesire Cat I am," I muttered.

He rolled his eyes. "The Chesire Cat can go frolick with the Jabberwocky," he said angrily.

We heard a clink as a pitiful-looking dormouse peeped out of a teapot, the lid balanced on his head like a hat. His fur was plastered to his thin body by tea, and he blinked his eyes sleepily as he said "Chessie won't be the only one...". He yawned, and ducked back into the scarlet teapot he had come out of.

Theophilus looked at the teapot with a look upon his face that I could not read. I was about to ask him about it when his father cried out:

"Tea time! Tea time! Move down, move down!" he said.

Theophilus rolled his eyes, looking at me with a small smile. Noticing my confusion, he said "We change places." He took his cup and saucer in his hands, and I did the same. "Time and my father had a row, so now it's always tea-time here, and we have no time to wash up. I'm sure Time will forget about it soon enough, though," he finished, sitting down at a clean place. "I just reuse my teacup. It will save me time later when I wash the dishes."

I nodded, taking the seat to his left.

xxx

We had gone through three more places before Theophilus noticed the sun sinking in the sky. He let out a sigh of relief. "Mister Hare, Father, the sun is setting," he said.

"You mean the sun is sitting. Who taught you such atrocious grammar my boy? Certainly not your good father," the Hare exclaimed.

Theophilus rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Mister Hare," he said as he began gathering the dishes.

Relieved looks graced both of their faces. I hadn't known they were sane enough to know to be relieved. Just as I was about to ask Theophilus if he needed any help, we heard a low growl coming from the woods. He dropped the dishes and grabbed the teapot that the doormouse was in. "Everybody inside, now," he said. Cradling the teapot in his left arm, he grabbed my wrist with his left hand and pulled me quickly toward the large mansion, tea sloshing onto his forest green coat.

As soon as all five of us had gotten inside safely, he slammed the door shut and began locking all the various bolts. "Alice, I'm sorry to ask this of a guest, but if you wouldn't mind could you please bolt all the windows?" he asked, handing me a key ring. There were keys ranging from gargantuan to minute. I turned to the first window; there were three places to bolt it. Underneath it was a brass plate reading simply "Window No. One." I looked at the keys. There were three keys labeled "One." I understood the system now, and bolted the countless windows on the bottom floor.

Theophilus tossed a key ring to the March Hare and two to the Hatter. "Father, get the back door then the third floor windows. Mister Hare, if you would take care of the second floor iwndows and the doors to the balcony, I would be forever grateful."

And so it continued, until ever window and door had been bolted.

"Why exactly are we doing this?" I inquired as I did the second bolt on the twenty-third window.

Theophilus gave me a surprised look. "I know you are not from here, but surely you have heard of the Jabberwocky?"

"The Jabber _what_?"

"The Jabberwocky! The most dangerous beast ever to roam Wonderland!"

"No," I said. "I haven't ever heard of the Jabberwocky, at least before you told me. What is it like?"

Theophilus paled. Before he could answer, is father interjected. "His jaws have three rows of teeth sharp as daggers and as serrated as steak knives!"

"His claws are as strong and sharp as steel swords!" the March Hare added. "At least, that's what I've heard; there is only one person that has ever survived an encounter with the Jabberwock," he said in that tone of voice adults use when they are witholding information. "Anyway," he said, "I suppose we must set up guest bedrooms. Theo, you know where you usually stay; help the young lady find a room, if you please," he asked before he hopped off.

Theophilus was still very pale. "Are you alright?" I inquired. "You're white as a-"

"I'm fine, Miss Greenwood," he replied, grabbing ahold of a candlabra of a material I could not decifer, as it was so covered with melted candlewax. "This way, please," he said, leading the way up a large, spiraling staircase carpeted with a grotesque paisley pattern or bright pink and pea-soup green.

"What a charming house," I said. I was lying, of course, but I thought that the sign on the road must have been wrong and this was actually the house of the Hatter family, since Theophilus knew his way around so well.

He looked back at me, amused. It wasn't the good kind of amused, though; it was the kind of amused that the adults around my house were when I said something they considered quaint. "You don't need to be charming," he said. "This isn't my house. It's the March Hare's; didn't you read the sign? That's the bathroom," he said. "You'll probably want to bathe after all the traveling you've been doing. He didn't turn around to notice the look of horror on my face at a boy mentioning something that required undressing to me.

"Yes... th-thanks."

"The March Hare probably has clothes for you. He used to run a tailor's shop, you know; there was a girl about your size that came in quite often before- well, before he shut down."

I was curious, even for a child; but even I knew better than to ask why the shop had to be shut down. "Will he mind?"

"He won't remember they were for her. I don't think he even remembers he owned a tailor's shop. Here's the storage area," he said, setting the candlabra on a table before unlocking the door.

I was prepared for clashing color combinations and bad fasion taste. It still took me a minute to adjust my eyes. "Mister Hatter, I appreciate the offer but I don't think these are really my-"

He chuckled. "Don't worry; her clothes are down this way," he said, leading me between a row of poufy ballgowns adorned with gargantuan rosettes, satin bows and swags of lace to a rack of much more tasteful clothing in my size. I pulled down a blue-grey dress of heavy cotton that had eyelet lace on the cuffs and a collar made entirely out of the stuff. It was adorned with navy blue piping at the waist and at the seams where the collar met the neckline and the cuffs met the sleeves.

"Very nice choice," he said. "Tell me whne you need another dress and I will take you here again, but we must go now. The water has already heated for your bath."

I was surprised. "How did you heat all that water?"

He grinned at me. "I didn't; the house did."

I had a feeling I would need to get used to that kind of thing. "Oh... I suppose I will need togo down to the kitchen to fetch it."

"No need. The stove that heated your water is in the bathroom."

I nodded, unsurprised for once. "I should have guessed. Thank you; I suppose I will see you later this evening?"

"Yes. Dinner; no need to dress up. It will most likely be just you and me."

"Why won't the March Hare and the Mad- your father be there?"

"They just never are," he said with a shrug, turning and leading me out to the main hallway.

It was at that moment that I realized what a lonely life it must be for him in this world, this Wonderland, in which the only consistent thing was that almost nothing made sense.

xxx

_Did you guys like it? I hope so! _

_SUPPORT A FANFICTION WRITER: Leave a review! Please? _


End file.
